A/N: I love this story...and I'm tickled that it seems you do, too.

Right now, we're set to go 17 chapters (18 counting the prologue). I can't believe we're already over halfway there...and that I've got most of the rest written. *wipesbrow* My muse wasn't playing around this weekend...

For the record, this is what happens when I freak out and stephaniew tells me to let the story write itself. This is either the most brilliant or insane thing I have ever done. I'll let you decide...

I'm sitting way off the reservation with a massively re-written outline and Steph is sitting somewhere 300 miles or so south of me with her chin on the floor. Why does she put up with me again?

Umm...happy reading? I'll be biting my fingernails over here in the corner. *flinches*

Tissue Warning: Got Kleenex?

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Chapter Eleven: Abandon All Hope

"Jo! Wait for me, baby! Hang on until I can get back to you..."

The pain in Dean's voice carries Jo forward. She climbs and pushes herself, she stumbles but does not allow herself to fall.. She has to get to him. Has to get him out of here. Has to free him from the pit. But the closer she gets, the further away she seems to be.

She's in a field near a creek. She sees her father kneeling by the water to get a drink. John Winchester walks up behind him, pointing a shotgun at the back of his head. Jo struggles to call out a warning, but it's as though her vocal cords aren't working.

Bill must see John's reflection in the water. He turns, looking up at the man standing over him. "No, John..."

John cracks his neck. He holds the weapon steadily, pushing it forward until it's pressed against his forehead.

"Please..." he father begs. She feels the fat, sloppy tears as they slide over her face. She's unable to move, unable to do anything. She's fixed in place as though her shoes are filled with cement. "Think of Jo. Think of my baby girl. Do you want her to be like your boys? Do you want her to grow up with only one parent to protect her?"

The smirk on John's face is cold. The black of his is eyes is haunting. She closes her eyes at the pop of the gun. She keeps them shut waiting for a scream that doesn't come.

There's just a splash. Then nothing.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sam stands out in the field. He runs his hands through his hair. A growl rumbles deep in his throat as he tries calling out for the angel again, "Castiel, if you can hear me, man..."

"What the hell are you doing?"

He grits his teeth and, spinning around, sets eyes on the beautiful brunette sitting on the hood of the Impala. "Ruby."

"Reality check, Sam," she says, her voice sharp. "Your brother is dead. He's not coming back."

"You're wrong," he answers defiantly.

Ruby pushes herself up and steps toward the hunter. She tilts her head and watches his nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. Reaching up, she runs a hand along his jaw and feels him stiffen at her touch. Things were not going according to plan. She had to help him channel his abilities. They had to get started soon.

"Come on, Sam," she whispers, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss his throat. "I can help you. I can ease your pain."

Sam steels himself as he feels the bile rising in his throat. He uses her closeness to block his next move. Pulling her own dagger from his belt, he buries it to the hilt in her abdomen and pushes her off of him. "What you can do is go back to Hell," he spits. "You black eyed bitch."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Shaking with fear, Jo hugs herself tightly. She can do this. She has to. Taking bold steps, she makes her way. She hears her own voice. Hears herself pleading and begging. Turning, she sees herself facing off against Sam.

He yanks at her clothes, his eyes are inky and his smile is fiendish. The other her melts away and the demon pretending to be Sam approaches her. "Why are you here?" it snarls. "We told you he didn't love you. That he saw you as a school girl. And yet you come to save him anyway."

"You aren't real," she says defiantly. It makes her feel strong. Power courses through her chest.

"Mmm," he taunts. "You think he wants you. You think he'd want you if he knew what I did to you?"

Jo snorts. Pulling the Dragoon from her waist, she fires it and slips it back.

The look on fake Sam's face changes rapidly. Confusion. Surprise. Anger. The hole spreads wider and wider until his entire being explodes in front of her.

Jo shakes her head, a genuine smile touching her lips for the first time since Dean's death. "Sonuvabitch," she says, her hand caressing the wooden and steel handle of the weapon. "It worked..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bobby stands at his kitchen sink. He watches as the Impala rolls into the scrap yard and hurries out to meet Sam on the porch. "Well?" he asks. "Any luck?"

Sam's brow is furrowed. "No," he answers. "No sign of him. I don't know about this, Bobby. I mean I know what they said..."

"It ain't been 4 months yet, boy," Bobby says. The old man's heart breaks as he delivers the remark. Like Sam, he'd hoped Jo would be able to do something. That they wouldn't be forced to wait for an angel they had no proof even existed.

"It's been over a month, Bobby," Sam says, grabbing the back of a chair for support. "Almost two. Jo said she had to get him out in three."

As he stands up, Bobby notices the stain on the front of his shirt. "You ain't hurt are ya, ya idjiot."

Sam shakes his head. "No," he answers, stripping off his jacket and beginning to remove his clothes as he makes his way from the room. "Ran into a demon."

The old hunter crosses his arms. "The one they said turned you into a blood sucker?" he asks.

"Yeah," he replies. "She won't be a problem anymore."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jo's close now. Close enough she can almost feel the lashes cutting into Dean's flesh. She wants nothing more than to go to him. To kiss the corner of his mouth comfortingly, even with the knowledge that it would be much like the kiss he gave her as she lay dying - tinged with the copper tang of blood.

She closes her eyes, thinking of waking up with him. Thinking of the way he pulled the covers over them both. The flutter of the crisp sheet as his mouth crushed against hers. Her heart beats faster as she feels the love in his touch. Her breath quickens as she swears she can feel his hands and his mouth on her skin.

Dean gasps. His eyes shoot open and he searches for her. It can't be real. She couldn't really be here. He was delusional.

But it felt real. So real. Even as Alistair's blade cuts into his side, he'd swear he can feel her lips roaming over his. He'd swear he can feel the pounding of her heart against his chest as she lay beneath him.

Only she wasn't beneath him. He was hanging, suspended in mid-air, from a meat hook. It cut into the flesh and muscle of his shoulder. It ground against the bone when the whip lashed against his back. But he wouldn't break. He would hold out. He would never give up - never give in - not when he had Jo to go home to.

Green eyes shine with fear and sadness when he sees her on a ledge not too far from him. "No," he mouths.

Her eyes twinkle as she looks down at him. "I love you," she mouths back. There'd be plenty of time to fight about this later. When they were home and he was safe.

Pulling the cans of paint from her pockets, she prepares the devils' traps on the stone floor. Smiling, she pours handfuls of dirt she's collected over them as they dry. Closing her eyes, she prays this works. Prays it holds them off just long enough.

"You," she calls out. Alistair stops his slicing and dicing. He turns his eyes from his plaything to the blonde who stands fearlessly eyeing him. "Yeah, you. Tall, dark and ugly."

"Jo, no!" Dean calls out.

The demon tilts his head. Watching the pained gaze that shoots between the young lovers, he sees his victim's weakness. The girl. Dean would surely break if he tortured the girl before his very eyes. With a flick of his wrist, he dispatches several minions.

Jo draws them into the circle and quickly steps out just as a hand is reaching for her. They scream in agony, trapped as fire consumes them.

But she doesn't have time to think about it, marveling at how well the trick had worked. She turns back to Alistair. "Bring it."

Dean pulls, jerking against the hooks and chains that bind him. He's afraid to watch. Afraid to breathe. Afraid this will all have been for nothing and that he'll never make his way home. That he and Jo will be lost forever in the fires of Hell.

Watching Alistair advance on Jo, he calls the demon off. "I'll do it," he says. "I'll do whatever it is you want." His voice catches and he nearly sobs. "Let her go. You have to let her go. Send her back. Get her away from me."